Merry and Bright Read online

  “On?”

  On whether or not she could find room in her budget to replace the shoes. “Nothing. I’m fine. Thanks.” Blowing a strand of hair from her mouth, she glanced over just as he crouched at her side.

  And felt the most ridiculous schoolgirl urge to blush and stammer. Because wow.

  Seriously wow.

  He smiled at her. And although everything about him—his confidence, his clothes, his ease—all projected old money and class—not to mention a sophistication she couldn’t have faked on her best day—he wasn’t GQ perfect.

  No, nothing as easy to shrug off as GQ perfect.

  Instead, his hair had been finger combed at best, the sun-streaked wheat strands shoved back off his face, where it fell in unruly waves to his collar. His mouth was wide, quirked in a half smile that revealed a single heart-stopping dimple on the left side, the same side as the scar that slashed his eyebrow in half over a set of golden eyes with laugh lines at the corners.

  He apparently smiled, and often.

  His nose had been broken at least once, the bump only adding more character to a face that already had it in spades. He was bigger than her last boyfriend, but truthfully it had been so long she could hardly remember if she’d had to go up on tiptoe to kiss him. She’d definitely have to get up on tiptoe for this guy, and why she was even thinking such a thing was ridiculous.

  “I’m fine,” she repeated, hoping that by saying so multiple times she could make it true. “Really. Just fine.” Uh-huh, and now she sounded like an idiot as well as looked like one. “So fine . . .”

  God. She rambled when she was nervous, and she was very nervous now. “Super fine.” Shut up, shut up.

  With a smile, he put his hand on her arm. It was a big hand, warm and strong, much like the rest of him. He had to bend because he was well over six feet, and while she was noticing that, she couldn’t fail to continue to notice the rest. He definitely had a build to go with the height, an athletic one, not a gym-made one, the kind that under normal circumstances would have made her swallow her own tongue.

  But since she’d embarrassed herself enough already, she told herself no tongue swallowing, and to make sure of it, avoided looking directly into his face. It should help the problem of finding his . . . maleness so utterly unsettling and intimidating.

  Movements easy and fluid, he pulled her to her feet, still touching her in a way that woke things within her, things that had been dormant for a long, long time. Yes, he was attractive, but also astonishingly, remarkably . . . male.

  And as if all that wasn’t potent enough, he looked right into her face, and whoa baby, those golden eyes were full, deep, and direct in a way that said he could read her all the way to the bone.

  If that was the case, she was in big trouble.

  Around them, the party was noisy, festive with holiday cheer and decorations, complete with sprigs of mistletoe. It was crowded with happy revelers—ever ything that she usually avoided. Mostly, she’d rather have a root canal without the benefit of good meds than dress up and make nice with rich, spoiled people, but she’d used that excuse last time.

  So here she was, being physically supported by one of them, no less. Since she barely came to his shoulder, she had to balance on her one heel for some desperately needed height.

  He smiled, and while maybe he wasn’t exactly GQ material, he’d certainly dressed for the cover, wearing gorgeously cut black pants and a soft-looking whiskey-colored shirt that matched his eyes, clothes that had clearly been made for his long, leanly muscled body.

  They were not in the same tax bracket. Not even close.

  “Let me find you a place to sit,” he said. “It’s too nice an evening to be rushing around.”

  She sensed he didn’t do a lot of rushing. There was something relaxed and laid-back about him.

  And gorgeous. Let’s not forget gorgeous. “I’m good, thanks.”

  “Would you like a drink?”

  After which he’d likely vanish as quickly as he could. It was nothing personal, she knew. She just wasn’t the sort of woman to keep a man like this interested for long, though she spared a second to wish that for once she could act like her mother’s daughter. That for once she could simply go after whatever she wanted.

  Because what she wanted was a chance beneath the mistletoe, if only for a moment... “So why aren’t you out there having fun? Drinking or dancing, or . . .” As was its habit, her tongue ran away from her brain. “Or making the most of that mistletoe?”

  His eyes lit with good humor, and that dimple flashed. “Maybe I don’t have someone to make the most of it with.”

  Want more Jill Shalvis? Read on for a preview of Superb and Sexy, available now from Kensington Books!

  Could this day have gotten any worse? Maddie wondered as Brody followed her through the house. She passed through the laundry room, where Leena had some of her bras hanging up to dry. She ducked beneath them, but even when he ducked, Brody managed to hit a hanger. A black, lacy panty fell to the floor.

  He bent and picked it up, the thing looking incredibly small and feminine in his hands.

  With a sound that she meant to be annoyance but might have been something else entirely, she snatched it from him, stretching to hang it back up. As she moved, she felt him at her back. She always felt him, but more today than she ever had before.

  She’d missed him.

  Hell of an admission.

  He was eyeing the rest of the drying lingerie, not saying a word but clearly thinking plenty. “My sister’s,” she said and walked on.

  He followed. Of course, he followed.

  She couldn’t shake him, and she sure as hell hadn’t managed to distract him either. She was definitely losing her touch. Stopping in the front hall, she looked pointedly at the door. He set a big, warm hand on the small of her back until she turned and looked at him.

  She got that she’d inadvertently triggered all of his alpha male, drag-his-knuckles-on-the-ground tendencies. It was all over his face, in the hard angles of his jaw, in the set lines of his mouth, in the way his eyes were so intense and stormy and utterly focused on her.

  He knew her far better than she’d imagined. Though how that was possible, what with him always doing his damnedest to keep his distance from her at work . . .

  But she’d obsess about that later.

  Much later.

  She had bigger issues at the moment. Life-and-death issues. Leena’s. Hers.

  And now his.

  Because yes, she’d heard Rick’s message loud and clear. Her uncle Rick expected Leena back on Stone Cay, and if she didn’t go, there’d be trouble.

  There’d be problems.

  There’d be blood. “Brody.”

  “Maddie,” he said with shocking calm. A furious calm, if she wasn’t mistaken, but still.

  “I’m on leave of absence,” she reminded him, not telling him that it looked like it might be permanent. Hell, she could hardly think it, much less say it out loud. “As in, I’m not currently working for you. So what’s happening in my life is none of your business.”

  “That might have been true a few minutes ago. But now we’re related.”

  “Stop it.”

  “No, you stop it.” Yes, definitely fury. “What the hell is this all about, Maddie? Who was that asshole on the phone?”

  She wasn’t moved by much, but him standing there in that tall, muscled package, wrapped by all that raw and dangerous male beauty made her swallow hard. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  Try him? That had been her greatest fantasy up until Leena had shown up and Maddie’s entire world of glass had shattered. Before that, she’d wanted to try him every which way possible, but that was going to be just a fantasy now, a remote one. She reached for the front door, but before she could open it, he placed his hand on the wood, effortlessly holding it closed above her head.

  Facing the door, she eyeballed his arm, taut with strength. Th
e fingers of his hand were spread wide. He had long fingers, scarred from all the planes he’d rebuilt. They were capable fingers, always warm, and the clincher . . . they knew how to touch. He’d held her face that time she’d kissed him, and if she closed her eyes, she could still feel them on her jaw. She’d spent a lifetime schooling herself against feeling too much, against giving away too much of herself, especially to men. But the men she’d been with didn’t make her nerves sing and her pulse jump by just looking at them.

  Brody did.

  “Maddie.”

  “It was nice of you to visit. But as you can see, now’s not a good time.”

  He lifted his hand and traced a finger over the exit wound on the back of her shoulder. “Are you feeling okay?”

  She loved his touch. Way too much. “Yes.” Unfortunately, the man was a virtual mule when he wanted to be, unmovable, staunch in his opinions. On her best day, she might have gone toe-to-toe with him, no problem, using that voice of honey she’d perfected, her smile of ice, and the argumentative skills she’d honed well over the years. She was every bit as stubborn as he, and she would have won—she’d have seen to it.

  But this wasn’t her best day, not by far. In fact, it was quickly gearing up to be one of her top three worst ever. “Don’t make me kick your ass out of here.”

  “I think I can take you.”

  With a sigh, she dropped her forehead to the door and just breathed. Not easy with well over six feet of solid, warm muscle encroaching into the personal space behind her.

  And he was encroaching.

  Not that her body minded. Nope, it had apparently disengaged from her brain and was making a break for freedom.

  But then he did something that made it all the more difficult. He stepped even closer so that she actually felt his thighs brush the backs of hers. His chest did the same to her back, and then, oh God, and then she felt his breath on her temple.

  She had to close her eyes. Don’t turn around because then you’ll be in his arms, and you just might be stupid enough to kiss him again, get lost in him . . .

  He slipped an arm around her waist, hard and corded with strength. Adrenaline and something else, something much more dangerous to her well-being, washed through her veins, followed by a high tide of stark desperation.

  If she pushed back against that body, she could rub all her good spots to his. No.

  Yes.

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

  Compilation copyright © 2013 by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  “Finding Mr. Right” copyright © 2008 by Jill Shalvis

  “Bah, Handsome!” copyright © 2009 by Jill Shalvis

  “Ms. Humbug” copyright © 2005 by Jill Shalvis

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-0-7582-9112-7

  eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-3417-9

  eISBN-10: 1-4201-3417-5

  First Kensington Books Electronic Edition: October 2013